


Two Broke Men

by TheDaughterOfHades



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, I suck at tagging, M/M, Pining John Watson, Pining Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:50:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDaughterOfHades/pseuds/TheDaughterOfHades
Summary: our Baker street boys are low on cash. so they go to Mycroft for help.hey, they were desperate.





	Two Broke Men

John’s POV

It was an early Monday morning at Baker Street when I opened our fridge and realized that we needed multiple grocery items. I sighed, knowing that it would have to be me who went out to store. At breakfast, I ate alone, because Sherlock was busy mixing and stirring feverishly. Apparently, he was making a scientific inquiry that he said was crucial to the case we were currently working on. I left him to it, grabbing my coat and heading out to the store. He didn’t even glance at me.

Hailing a cab, I realized I was short on cash. I payed the man, and decided to use my credit card at the store.

After getting the things we needed, I headed to the cash register. However, the credit card did not produce any of the money that I tried vainly to use. After several frustrated attempts, I left the items behind and stormed outside to hail a cab.

Except I couldn’t, because I was broke.

Upon arriving home, I found Sherlock furiously swatting at the couch where a fire was starting. I grabbed a jug and filled it with water, dousing the couch. Once the immediate danger was taken care of, Sherlock breathed heavily and loosened his tie. I coughed and opened the windows, airing the place.

Sherlock collapsed into his armchair, which was free of scorch marks. Mine, on the other hand, was a little worse for wear.

I rounded on my flatmate. “Bloody hell, Sherlock. What happened?”

He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Nothing. I knocked over a beaker.” He continued, ignoring my open mouth. “On the bright side, I solved the case.” He grinned and brought the tips of his long fingers together. “And the guilty party is most definitely lying.”

He stopped talking and studied my face. He sat up in his chair. “Well Watson, I deduce from your flushed cheeks and lack of groceries that something went wrong on your trip.”

I threw up my hands. “We’re broke, Sherlock. I've lived with you for a week and solved one major case, and we’re already out of cash.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled, his face peaceful.

When he opened them again, they were full of mischief. He turned to me. “I think, my good doctor, there is only one thing we can do.”

“What?”

“Oh, i’m sure I recall a time last week where someone offered you a considerable amount of money to spy on me.”

I jerked back my head in surprise. “You want me to work for Mycroft!?”

He laughed at my reaction. “Only temporarily.”

“But he knows I work with you. He would never believe me if I suddenly decided to turn against you”, I protested.

Sherlock shook his head, deep in thought. “Not necessarily. You could tell him you were desperate for the cash. And that as a doctor, you didn’t think I was staying off the drugs like I said I was. You're an army doctor, after all. You should know the signs of a person who’s not stable.”

“And by close examination, I can tell that you're nowhere near high.”

He waved his hands in the air. “That’s not the point. Mycroft is serious about my drug habits. He will do whatever you say, especially if he thinks you’re doing it to help me.”

I was still not on board with this plan. “I don’t understand why you can’t just start accepting cash for all the cases you solve. If you did, we’d be rich!”

Sherlock shook his head again, his face set. “No. That is not an option. Don’t even consider it.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

 

Sherlock clapped his hands together. “Wonderful”, he muttered, eyes closed. 

 

 

The plan was set carefully. Not a toe was to be out of line, because this was Mycroft we were talking about. But Sherlock was confident that he wouldn’t suspect anything until after I had safely payed our weekly rent.

First, we went to the police.

“Are you sure Lestrade will let you do this?”, I asked.

“He owes me. He can’t say no. Besides, it’s not like there’s anything suspicious about our request”, he replied. We reached the doors, and he flung them open.

We practically ran to Lestrade’s office. Sherlock tapped his knuckles against the door frame rapidly. Lestrade opened the door and frowned immediately. “Oh no. you’ve got the same look on your face. The same face that asked me to be bait for a serial killer.”

Sherlock laughed at the memory. He turned to me. “I’m afraid that case was before I met you, Watson. I’ll show it to you sometime.” He turned back to Lestrade.

“You owe me, my dear Lestrade. John and I need full view of all the cameras around London.”

“This is for a case?”, Lestrade asked, his eyebrow raised.

I tried to stifle my laughter. I could tell by the look on Sherlock’s face that he was having the same problem. I rid my voice of emotion. “Er, yeah, a case”, I said hastily.

“Okay. the security room is down the hallway. Let me know if I can help.”

But we were already there. We went through all the security cameras. Sherlock’s eyes were flitting from screen to screen. He stood up suddenly and pointed widely at his computer screen. “There!”

He leaned back into his chair, satisfied with himself.

I glanced and smiled. There she was. The person we needed for stage two.

Anthea.

 

I pulled up my car at the side of the road. Dusting my coat, I glanced into the window of the cheerful shop window. I made my way inside and sat next to her. She didn’t even glance my way, her nose was stuck to her cell.

I cleared my throat. “Anthea. I need to speak to Mycroft. We made an acquaintance a while ago where he asked me something. I’ve changed my mind about what we talked about, and I’m willing to chat it over with him.”

She barely acknowledged me. She sighed and typed furiously on her phone. Finally she looked up and said, “Mycroft is happy with your decision. He’s content to meet with you.”

She returned to her cell. When I didn’t move, she looked up again and rolled her eyes. She nudged me towards the window, where I saw a sleek black limousine parked next to the curb. I gave a jolt. 

“What, now?”

“Yes!”

She practically pushed me towards the door while I tried to get in a few words.

“Er, where exactly are we meeting? And aren’t you coming?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Its fine. The driver will know where to go. All you have to do is get in the car. And no, i’m not coming. It’s my off day.”

As I stumbled outside, the car door opened. I dusted my coat and sat inside. I barely had time to say hello to the mysterious driver, before we were off. I made myself comfortable on the leather seats and decided to go along with this crazy plan. Besides, it was just a joke. All we really wanted was to pay our rent.

The drive was a short one. As we pulled to a stop, I stepped out and took a look at the unfamiliar surrounding. We had parked in an underground parking lot, but it was empty and had no parking signs anywhere. I turned back to the driver to ask where we were, but the car was gone. A chill went up my back at this discovery, but my whole heart leapt out of my throat when I heard a voice say, “Good afternoon, Watson.” 

Mycroft was seated in a wooden chair. It was fancy, and it looked very out of place in the cold and dank parking place. There was an identical chair opposite to him, and he gestured at me to sit down.

“So, I hear you changed your mind about the, er, little matter we discussed about my dear brother.”

He fixed his unwavering gaze on me. I tried to return the stare and more importantly, stop my knees from knocking together. “Yes”, I replied.

“So, what changed your mind so suddenly?”

“Well, um, I’m kind of short on cash.”

“I thought you and Sherlock payed rent together?” Mycroft asked, his eyebrows raised. I shuddered involuntarily, creeped out by the calculating stares he sent me.

“Yes, but as you know, Sherlock refuses to accept money from his clients, no matter what the situation is. Besides, my shifts aren’t enough to cover the rent and the equipment we need for the cases.”

“Hmmm, I should think not. But there is something else. If this was the only problem, you would have come to me long ago.”

“Well, yes”, I admitted. I faked a look of concern. “As you know, I’m a doctor. I know when a person is lying about his or her health. Did Sherlock tell you he stopped smoking?”

“He did. I had a feeling he was lying to me. But then again, he was always good at hiding his emotions”, Mycroft muttered the last sentence, more to himself then me.

I settled more comfortably in my chair. Sherlock was right. This was going to be easy.

 

 

 

I returned to Baker Street two hours later. Sherlock was waiting for my arrival. “Well, did he believe you?” he asked, his voice filled with impatience.

I grinned. “He believed me alright.”

“Did you tell him? Did he do what I thought he would?”

“Of course. You're Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock smiled. That perfect smile that didn’t show all of his white teeth, but the smile that showed me that he was human, no matter what anyone thought.

“On to stage three then. Did you get what we needed?”

I bent down to retrieve the plastic bag by my feet. He nodded and we grabbed our coats. We were grinning like a pair of clowns as we made our way down the stairs. We couldn’t help it. We met Mrs. Hudson halfway down the stair. She glanced at us suspiciously.

“What are you two doing now?” she furrowed her brow with warm concern. “It better not be illegal.”

Sherlock smiled at her. “Of course not, my dear Mrs. Hudson. Just an afternoon errand for a case. We’ll be skipping tea today.”

She nodded and we went down the rest of the stairs and out the door. Coming out into the street, Sherlock hailed a cab. As he opened the door, he stood out of my way to let me in first. I glanced at him in surprise, but he merely climbed in after me and stared out of the window.

The drive was short, and I left him to his deductions. Finally, we reached our destination. I paid the driver and he sped off. We were in a dark alleyway that smelled of moisture and an unpleasant sourness. I glanced at Sherlock. His brow was furrowed in concentration. 

“This is where we leave it?”

“Yes.” His reply was short. I grabbed the plastic bag and opened it. We heaped the drugs and cigarettes onto the cement floor. We covered it with a tarp and left a note on top of it. It had a weird message written in swirls and patterns that I didn’t recognize.

“Are you sure he’ll understand?” I asked.

“He will. We made up this code when we were little and used it for fun. It was a joke between us”. My friend’s voice was steady, but his eyes were blurred, a clear indication that he was thinking about something that happened a long time ago. It was clear that even if Mycroft and Sherlock had a frosty relationship now, things had once been different before.

Less than five seconds had passed before Sherlock was back in reality. His tone was once again brisk and his eyes were clear. He grinned at me. We couldn’t risk getting another cab because we were both literally empty-handed at this point. We had no money. If this plan failed, Sherlock would have to start accepting money sooner or later.

When we reached Baker Street, we made our to the flat and hung up our coats. I stared at Sherlock. “On to stage four.”

He rubbed his hands. “Yes. do you have your phone?”

I nodded and pulled it out. I started to type a message to Mycroft Holmes. I glanced up again. “What do I write?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Write something you would say. If I tell you what to write, he’ll know what we’re up to.”

I turned back to my phone and typed in a short message.

Can we talk some more? Meet me at the alley by Fair Haven’s Street. I have what you want. Send me the money in advance and i’ll give you more.

Once the message was sent, we took our rightful places in our chairs and waited. Within minutes, a sizable amount of money was transferred to our bank account. Grinning, we high-fived. 

If the plan went right, Mycroft would be on his way to the alley right now……

 

 

 

Mycroft hated alley-ways. They were always so dank and musty. He shuddered involuntarily. In the back of the alleyway, he found a tarp covering something. He smiled and made his way towards it. 

“Is that it?” Anthea asked, behind him.

“Yes. All the drugs my brother had in his flat.” Mycroft raised the tarp with satisfaction. This wasn’t a waste of money at all. He would spend a fortune to find out where Sherlock kept these things. Deep down, he really did care about his brother’s declining health. Unbeknownst to anyone, if his brother died, it would break Mycroft Holmes completely leaving nothing left of the man he was today.

He kept these thoughts to himself, obviously.

The drugs were hidden in the crevice. He was glad that Doctor Watson had hidden them in a remote alleyway. God knows what would have happened if someone else had found it first. He shuddered.

Anthea glanced at the drugs with her brows raised. “I figured that Watson would lie to us. He didn’t seem like the man who would lie to Sherlock Holmes.”

Mycroft shrugged. “A man, even an honorable man, will do anything for money.”

Anthea came closer to the crevice. She picked up another bag filled with drugs. She dropped it and glared at Mycroft.

Mycroft picked up another bag and opened it. It was fake as well.

“Dammit. They're all fake.”

Anthea crossed her arms. “Seems like your judgment was wrong. I told you that Watson was too close to him already. Did you send him the money?”

Mycroft looked lost. “Um, yes. I did before we got here. Perhaps I did judge too quickly.”

“I know. You always judge too quickly when it comes to your brother”, she said smugly. Mycroft snapped out of thoughts.

“I do not!” he stormed out of the alley, dark faced. Anthea followed him.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Baker Street. I’m going to retrieve my money, and knock some sense into our kind Doctor Watson.”

 

 

 

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock and I were busily paying Mrs. Hudson the rent.

“Why are you two grinning at me like that? This money better not be fake.”

Sherlock clasped her hand tenderly. “My dear Mrs. Hudson. That was hard-earned money!”

She took it and made her way downstairs, leaving us to some privacy. As soon as the door behind us was firmly shut, we fell over ourselves in laughter.

Sherlock wiped tears from his eyes. I realized I was doing the same.

“I can’t believe he bought everything we said!”

Suddenly, we heard swift marching up the stairs and Mrs. Hudson’s angry voice. Without knocking, Mycroft pushed into our flat. We stared at him innocently, trying not to laugh. His face was red, with sweat dripping down his forehead. It was clear that he had run all the way hear from the alley.

He turned to me. “Doctor Watson. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you! Hand over the money this instant!”

“Why? God knows you don’t need it. You have enough from that fancy government job your so proud of”, Sherlock drawled lazily. 

Mycroft drew himself to his full height. “Sherlock, I swear, never come to me for something again!”

He stormed out, pushing past Mrs. Hudson. She stared after him. “What was that all about?” She asked crossly, folding her arms.

Sherlock was still trying not to laugh. I stared at him openly, relishing the way his eyes lit up and the sound of his laugh. I shook myself into reality.

You're not gay, remember?

Sherlock straightened, managing a normal face. “Nothing, Mrs. Hudson”, he said airily. “Just a little spat between my dear brother.”

This seemed to satisfy her. Her face took on a motherly look. “Alright. Just make sure you eat something. I know you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” She left.

I was finally alone with Sherlock. Wait, that didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

He turned to me. “You did well, John. It takes a lot to convince Mycroft Holmes.”

Involuntarily, I felt myself blush. Oh God. I hope Sherlock didn’t notice.

“You're blushing, Doctor.”

Crap.

“I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day”, I said hurriedly.

“Hmmmm. I should think so. Goodnight Doctor.”

He turned to leave, and I felt a tinge of disappointment. What the heck was wrong with me?

“Oh, and John. One more thing.”

Sherlock turned to me. How on earth was he able to say three words that were so simple, and still turn my world upside down?

“Yeah?”

His lips were on mine, warm and real. I breathed in the scent of him, fresh and somehow so unique. I wouldn't expect anything lower from Sherlock Holmes.

He was the best, after all.

He kissed me again, deeper this time. I tasted him, relished the feeling of the two of us connected as one.

Finally. 

I broke away from him, as hard as it was. “Aren't you worried that Mycroft will find out?”

He traced the tip of one of his long fingers against my jawline. I shuddered.

“No”, he muttered.

We went to sleep together that night.

**Author's Note:**

> just a funny one shot idea i had. I decided to throw in some Johnlock, because, hey, why not?


End file.
